Deeply Scarred
by Just Mosie
Summary: Upon her arrival, she parked her Chevy Traverse right behind Jane's Citroen and began walking towards the solemn looking bungalow. She kept her head down and refused speaking to the media journalists, vultures in her mind. Jane/Lisbon  eventual .


**I'm alive.**

**So I haven't written/updated anything in about 3 months? Yes, I'm actually quite mad at myself for that. Blame college/university applications, school, and some personal problems…and I guess NaNoWriMo…**

Deeply Scarred

…

_Unknown to most, there are a lot of people in this world who are deeply scarred. Although some more than others, everyone has overcome at least some form of adversity. Adversities or hardships, a more common term, help shape and mold a person into who they really are. Without any adversity, then life wouldn't be so valuable and precious. If life were so easy, then would everything last?_

…

Once again Red John had struck, this time taking the life of a young woman and her equally young husband. Their bodies had been disgustingly positioned to almost mirror each other on the bed, hands outstretched towards each other, eyes open, and mouths open in silent screams. Blood coated the entire duvet, sinking into the fluffy fabric and dripping onto the cream coloured carpet. The sight itself was sickening and extremely tragic, especially to the young three-year-old little boy who first discovered his parents that Monday morning.

Now that same little boy was wrapped in a scratchy grey blanket and being held by a paramedic, who tried to placate the boy who said nothing. The little boy was in shock, he refused to talk and continued to stare in place, as if his eyes were completely focused on the lamppost across the street. Every time the paramedic or police would try to get his attention off the lamppost, he would squirm and whine, but would never say anything. Much like the sickening sight of his slain parents, this sight would hurtfully swell the hearts to any bystander.

Especially the one and only Teresa Lisbon.

At nine that morning she got the message from Madeline Hightower, explaining that Red John had indeed struck again. Lisbon had been hesitant at telling her team, especially after hearing the news about the three-year-old boy. After informing the team, Patrick Jane had sprung up from his ratty old leather couch and began walking straight for the elevator in an almost robotic sense. She took some amount of pity towards the former psychic, but knew to expect this behaviour. The remainder of her team had stood up numbly and reached for their jackets hung on the back of their seats. They asked for directions and also headed towards the elevators. Lisbon knew immediately that today she was driving alone to this crime scene. Grace and Rigsby would want to go together, Cho by himself, and Jane most certainly would drive alone in his contraption.

Upon her arrival, she parked her Chevy Traverse right behind Jane's Citroen and began walking towards the solemn looking bungalow. She kept her head down and refused speaking to the media journalists, vultures in her mind, and continued through the door. She walked into the master bedroom due to following the crowd of detectives and officers. Grace and Rigsby walked around the room, jotting down relevant information and observations pertaining to this murder. Jane himself stood at the foot of the bed staring at the deceased couple.

"Jane, you okay?"

He almost jumped and removed his hands out of his pocket to turn around and look at her, "Oh, hi Lisbon," he said softly, his eyes moving to the ground before turning back to look down at the bed, "How long have you been standing there?"

Grace and Rigsby quickly exchanged looks. Rigsby tapped onto her arm and gestured for her to leave the room, Grace nodded and began walking through the door. Lisbon watched them for a few brief moments, her eyebrows nearly raising before she turned to look back at Jane, knowing she should answer his question, "For about a minute. You okay?" he hadn't answered her first question, and truthfully she didn't like that.

He nodded, but she knew it was a lie, "Yeah, I'm fine," he turned back to her, but did not look at her. His eyes then looked around the room, "I think I need some fresh air," he spoke slightly bitterly as he brushed past her to leave the room. She looked over her shoulder before turning back to look at the dead soul mates and breathed a sigh of discontentment.

Shutting her eyes for a split moment, she decided that this was going to be a long week, and it was only Monday. Opening her eyes, she finally saw the trademark Red John smiley face staring back at her and she automatically stiffened. The sight of the smiley face always drew a shiver down her spine, but for some reason she had a sickening feeling about this case especially. She felt that it seemed like this case might be the last one by Red John, but her only thought was if this was a good or bad thing? Because she had a really bad feeling about this one, especially since there was a child involved.

**I am aware that this is a bit short, but it's also a multi-chapter story. Think of this more as a prologue I guess. I will try to write more tonight if my business allows it. **


End file.
